like sequins sewn on a dress.
It was in this moment that I found illumination. Staring at the droplets of water on the leaves, I confess, I felt pure, unadulterated happiness. Those bunches of red leaf lettuce were so beautiful and so simple and, honestly, right there in the Huntington Beach supermarket, I began to cry. I cried big, fat tears of joy. And as corny as this may sound, I felt I learned something so valuable—and that was that I don’t need a big cartful of stuff to make me happy. I don’t need things in order to calm my nerves. Rather, happiness comes from slowing down and looking. Really looking. Happiness is not “out there.” It’s right in front of you. If you look, happiness is right there among the bunches of red leaf lettuce.
The Mysteries of Time
My French tutor, Marceline, grew up in Grenoble, France, during World War II. During a recent meeting, she told me how one of the first things she learned about America in her English class was the saying “time is money.” This expression says so much about our culture. If time is money, then when we do something that does not involve getting paid, is it a waste of time? A waste of money? If this is true, then I suppose my Red Leaf Lettuce Epiphany was not worth much and, in fact, in this equation, the time I spent standing in the produce department actually cost me money. If time is money, then I suppose dinner parties and dancing and laughing with your friends is a waste of money. Playing with your children is nonproductive. Making love . . . well, you see where I’m going with this.
These things take little time and cost no money, or very little money, and are the things that bring us joy.
So where should we look for happiness?
Well, you can find happiness anywhere and everywhere. Truth be told, happiness is like the artist’s muse. She is very whimsical and loves to play little tricks on us. If we search too hard, happiness will slip away. And then, when we are not really concentrating on capturing her, she will suddenly appear in our peripheral vision wearing a green silk gown, winking at us.
Happiness visits you when you’re swimming in a pool and you notice how your pastel blue nail polish matches the water. Or she comes to you when you’re standing in your kitchen chopping up tomatoes for ratatouille and your husband comes up behind you, takes you in his arms for a quick dance across the linoleum floor. Then again, she might perch on your shoulder one evening while you are sitting all alone in your parked car listening to an old Neil Young song. Happiness often comes in the most unlikely and unexpected situations, when we are not really looking for it. You are at your mother’s funeral and suddenly your father—yes, your father, who has always been so stoic and quiet—gets up and sings the old Bob Hope tune “Thanks for the Memories.”
In the middle of the tears, you find yourself laughing.
But, here’s the difficulty—these moments are all very different and completely unique. Still, they are always available to you if you open the window to your heart. Sometimes, this simply means getting out in nature more. Walking on the beach. Then again, the muse of happiness might pop up indoors—in a church or a temple. She occasionally pals around with Bacchus, the god of wine—but not all the time. She’s much too fickle for that. You might find yourself feeling very blue, as if nothing ever changes and your luck has run out, and so you hunker down and focus on what’s in front of you. There is a task at hand, and you must let go of your grasping for success or money or love or whatever. The muse of happiness responds to this scenario, because you see, she’s also a little like that frisky orange tabby cat you want to catch and hold. She runs away from you, but then you get busy and work and suddenly, feeling slightly ignored, she will appear out of nowhere and jump on your desk. Yes, doing simple ordinary work—even washing the dishes or raking leaves in the backyard—will coax the muse of happiness out of hiding.
But be on the lookout, because the form she takes will probably not be what you planned or expected. However, it will be perfectly right for you at that moment in time.
The truth is, she will appear wherever and whenever you are truly alive and present to the moment, when you stop to breathe, and to truly love this life.
Joie de vivre is an attitude. It’s a decision you make to live a life of joy. It’s an invitation to this dance called life. All you have to do is leave the door slightly ajar and listen for the music.
French Lessons
THE NEXT TIME you’re out in the world, stop and focus. Try to be present to the simple joys you can find when doing everyday, ordinary tasks. Open your eyes to the possibilities for joy in simple and very familiar activities such as grocery shopping, gardening, cooking, sitting in a park, having a picnic, enjoying a bath, or even doing housework. Yes, even sweeping the kitchen floor can bring you joie de vivre, if you take your time and focus on the rhythm and motion of the broom, the whispering-whisking sound it makes and how this connects you with so many others before you who have swept a kitchen floor. And if you “dress the part,” perhaps by wearing a kerchief around your hair, you can add a little more fun and whimsy to the experience.
Once and for all, break the connection between spending money and happiness by finding experiences that bring you joy, but do not cost a thing. Take the time to feel your feelings and make a note to yourself when something very simple brings you great joy. Sources of joy are different for different people, so it’s important that you register where your personal joie de vivre “lives.” Make a list of the moments in your life in which you’ve felt most happy and consider this to be your “happiness personality profile.”
Resist chasing after happiness and give happiness a chance to sneak up on you and “find” you in unexpected moments.
Next, find your “temple” of happiness. It might be out of doors, but this place where your happiness muse visits you might be in a dusty library or a crowded coffee shop. You can encourage the muse to visit you just by showing up on a regular basis.
Be creative with less. Enjoy the ordinary moments in a marriage or friendship or any relationship. Be playful. Be kind to yourself.
And finally, dance.
CHAPTER TWO
La Femme d’un Certain Âge
Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.
—ANAÏS NIN
YOU SEE THEM all around Paris. The stylish and oh-so-elegant older woman. She’s the one standing in front of you at the rue de Rivoli crosswalk. First, you notice her silhouette. There is something unmistakably sophisticated about her. Perhaps it’s her posture. Her confident stance. From the back, you have no idea what her age might be. But you know, or should I say, you sense a certain worldliness. She’s just too confident and contained to be une jeune fille (a young girl). There’s something about her clothing—the sheer black stockings, the high heel pumps, the secret agent trench coat, and those big sunglasses, even though it’s a gray day—but it’s more than this. It’s her attitude. She knows where she’s going. And yet, she offers you a certain mystery. The promise of adventure. Perhaps she’s planning a trip to Prague. Or she has a summerhouse in Deauville. Perhaps she has a lover there? Or a gentleman friend that she’s just very fond of—no one really knows for sure.
She’s just come from W.H. Smith. Yes, the English language bookstore. She likes to keep up her English language skills and she wants to read that new American novel in its original language. She is carrying a small tote and inside of it, you will find a lilac-colored
